


Broken Links

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, further apologies to anyone reading this, this is likely the worst I've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: Dean's timer is broken. He hates the pitying looks he gets when people notice.





	Broken Links

**Author's Note:**

> prompt #6 The soulmate clock is actually something breakable and you accidentally break yours or vice versa.  
> Source: http://silentpeaches.tumblr.com/post/125291322610/soulmate-au-story-ideas

It's hot. Way too hot, even for early August. The heat wave hit hard, and it hit with a vengeance that can only allow hoping that summer's sister winter will not throw such a tantrum fit in four months. He is sitting in a small café next to a small park. He ran away, in a kind of sense, from the inevitable.

The broken links of his timer's chain chafe ever so slightly, but he cannot make himself to throw it away.

Dean's timer is broken. He hates the pitying looks he gets when people notice. It's not as if he  _has_  to find a soulmate, people get their freak on and even fall in love without that. Sure, it's painful for all parties involved if the soulmates meet up and their supposed other half is in love with another; perhaps even has a family, and the outcome is often tragic for all involved.

Which is why flings are not frowned upon, but carefully selected and kept light. No need to set up a painful future if it is avoidable. However, Dean cannot understand how some break up with their lover of years because the timer is down to a couple of weeks until they meet their _Destined One_. It's a bucket of horseshit in his darned fine opinion because if soulmates actually made real sense, you'd know sooner. Some have to wait until they are in their late teens, some as late as their early twenties, some even longer for whichever reason because they are all born two years apart at most.

Some never meet their soulmate, for several reasons; some geographical, some tragical, some decide it's not worth the effort and lock themselves up so they cannot meet in person. He's the latter. As far as his teachers explained, even soulmates who have seen each other - perhaps even met - won't know until their bodies push out this weird next-of-kin-hormone to oxytocin that makes the soulmate bond possible in the first place.

He has heard of horror stories too; soulmates seeing each other for the first time, running towards each other and then one gets hit by a bus or car or some shit and their other half is left with a broken heart that never learnt to love, and therapy.

So, a very young Dean with four front teeth missing and his best friend Fluffy The Bear (shut up) tucked into bed next to him while waiting for Mom and Dad to finish saying good night to Sammy, well, this young Dean had decided, he will not allow such a tragedy to befall him, or his friends.

But, he had hoped. 

 

Now, almost a decade and a half later, he is sitting in a small side-street café down the street in scorching heat on the day he knows his timer has been finely tuned to and is filled with what can only be described with utter regret.

Cas is meeting his soulmate this afternoon, too. 

He has known Cas for just over four years, and though it started as a half-year-long obsession with scrunchynosedlaughter's posts on Tumblr (then,  _they_ had a gloriously dark and dry humour and an odd tick with bees), the friendly re-following rather quickly ensued in some glorious hashtag wars, joint posts and general fangirling about their favourite show or band. After a couple of months, scrunchynosedlaughter posted "@hetfieldsblackimpala, wanna hang out IRC?" and their followers maybe lost a tiny teensy bit of their mind (Dean still wonders about that hashtag #omgOTPirl).

It was great, at first. Cas, as Dean had learnt, was an amazing person and he definitively was just as adorable and unaware of his charms as he appeared to be in his responses to asks or reblogs.

After another couple of months, when had Dean moaned how he had to suffer through a super boring four hour commute back home because his shit-head friends refused to end the weekend on time, without a whisper of a book or music to listen to, Cas had somewhat cryptically offered that they actually could exchange numbers, if the network coverage is too draining for batteries to use mobile data. 

"You know, uh, just in case of, uh, emergencies," the then slightly higher pitched voice across the screen had offered. Cas' eyes had been so wide and blue, Dean thought he was joking. 

"After all, uh, we do appear to be in the same time zone so, uh... but, well, even if we aren't, it would do well to be able to reach out, just in case. If that's amenable to you." The last sentence was more a whisper than the usual cheery deep timbre of Cas' voice.

Needless to say, Dean complied as soon as he deemed he wouldn't sound way _too_ eager, which is to say, about two point one seconds. He knew by then he was a goner for Cas. Although the other teen never seemed too keen on opening up about his sexual encounters or orientation, Dean didn't mind. He knew that an online crush would fade, sooner or later (he hoped sooner).

The trickle of texts was slow, at first, but soon turned into good-night texts and good-morning-texts and little silly tidbits from their lifes. Dean had dated when he started to follow scrunchynoselaughter but the day the grainy pop-up from Skype showed him Cas, beautiful Cas, he broke the fling off. He hasn't dated since, but had not mentioned it either. Upon mutual agreement, they decided to keep their locations a secret, and somehow it had never come up in the following years. 

That is, until May this year, when during a concert a slightly tipsy Cas phoned Dean and yelled into the phone how frikken awesome Blue Saraceno is and how he hopes that Dean can attend their concert some day near his location because [Dogs of War](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tN875A3Bj8) is so much more perfect when played live.

Dean freaked. He _was_ at the concert, and to his knowledge, there is only one artist named Blue Saraceno, and he was playing Dogs of War right now and _Cas had been thinking about him_ and _they could meet,_ finally. Just as he was about to yell back into the speaker to meet up at the bar, someone rammed into him and sent him crashing to the floor. True to Being The Life Of Dean, he not only managed to break his fucking phone, no, he broke the tiny bracelet given to him on his first birthday. The girl apologised, she had been shoved herself, but there was nothing to be done. He kept combing through the crowd, stayed as long as he could without incurring the wrath of his mother for being out later than what was healthy for a first-year college student - but he never saw Cas.

Maybe it was for the best. After all, their time was off by almost ten minutes, and Dean knew that Cas had said he would wait for his soulmate. Dean never even stood a chance, so he learnt to accept it.

Maybe his own soulmate would be able to make it better. Dean hated himself for not being excited about meeting his own soulmate, as their meeting is imminent and he was doing his best to avoid it altogether; but he was certain that biology of soulmates would not overpower his other hormones, that the rush of adrenaline and butterflies in his stomach and knees whenever Cas greets him with that gummy smile was worth more than what a thin silver bracelet promised. Cas' voice has turned to a low timbre during those four years, it has turned into a warm wash of golden coloured streams of sunlight that wash over Dean every time they speak to each other. 

 

That has been his life for the last couple of years. Pining, full-time unrequited adoration and so much regret. 

 

So, here he is, in August, the heat wave making even the wind hot on his skin, having fled his usual grounds because he cannot imagine being with anyone else but Cas right now and the tightness in his chest increases, because, in just a couple of minutes, Cas will be the happiest person. And if their soulmate knows what's good for them, they will appreciate him in the way he deserves.

Dean glances at his watch when he sips the last of his elderberry lemonade and starts to gather his things. He is due in about ten minutes, give or take, so Cas is likely combing thought that messy hair with his fingers in hope to tame it in the last seconds before his life changes into something beautiful. Despite himself, Dean smiles. Dude looks adorable when his hair sticks up every which way and it looks so fluffy Dean is sure he'd keep petting Cas' hair even in his sleep. 

Even before he finishes the thought, he blushes.  _Gosh_. He'd be happy to spend time with the guy, but still. Sharing the same space, the same glass holding tooth brushes - it'd be  _perfect_.

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket finally catches his attention. He has a missed call from Cas, and Cas is calling again. 

Crap. He was supposed to meet  _them_  just a few minutes ago. If they hurt him, Dean will hunt them down.

He presses the green dot below Cas' face. 

"Hey Cas, what's up? Are you alright? Have you met them? Are you okay?" Remembering the horror stories he had heard as a child he adds, "Are... are they okay?"

Cas' replies but sounds dazed, "I.. yes. I am alright. I have met them in a way - yes?"

"Cas, dude, talk to me."

"I am so happy, Dean." He can hear the gummy smile, the name sake of his Tumblr account through the phone's speaker and closes his eyes against the sting that rushes through his rib cage. Cas is happy. That is all that matters.

Pressing his free hand across his forehead to shadow any forming tears, Dean clears his throat. No need to be a dick because he was friend-zoned without ever trying for real.

"That's, uh, that's great Cas. I'm really happy for you both."

"Dean. Are you alright? You don't need to be nervous, I know you'll see yours in a few minutes. And I know it will be great."

"I know you're riding your happy high now but shouldn't you be with your other half now, instead of speaking to me?" Dean attempts to reflect.

"Oh, yes. They are all I have ever hoped for and they.. are.. with me now."

Swallowing what tastes so close to bile, Dean has to take a deep inhale because right now, Cas sounds like such a di-

Dean freezes as the shadow falls over his empty glass, one arm extended and bent just the way his own is. He peers up through his lashes.

Cas is standing in front of him, in all his glory, tousled hair and eyes so blue Dean almost misses his smile.

"Hello, Dean. It is good to finally meet you."

**Author's Note:**

> I have no frikken idea what this was supposed to be. apologies and thank you for anyone to make it through this butchered piece. I suppose it would have been a good 200-word ficlet instead of trying to push in some angst but I really needed this.  
> anyway. rip into me, comments and kudos (especially as undeserved as they are for this piece) are appreciated.
> 
> also, on a side note, stay hydrated! Austria, in my case Vienna, is fighting her second week of a heat wave with about 40°C (104-ish Fahrenheit) so that even our public services in metros, trains, buses have started to give out free bottled water to idiots who forgot theirs at home. yay!


End file.
